


Stay

by magicalbean



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, M/M, soft canoodling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 05:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21010718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicalbean/pseuds/magicalbean
Summary: Back on that Fenhawke bs for the Fictober 2019 challenge! Written for the day 8 prompt: "Can you stay?"





	Stay

In a world apart, clouds hang low. Fog rolls over cracked cobblestone. Fenris's ears prick up at the gentle patter of rain against the window. The windows, the heavy drapes -- they hold the outside world at bay.  
  
Here, it's just the two of them.  
  
Through a veil of sleep, Fenris peers out at the fire burning low. It just barely illuminates his surroundings. His clothes and armor haphazardly strewn on the carpet, Hawke's staff propped against the wardrobe, the guttered candles at the desk.  
  
They are alone. For a moment more, Fenris closes his eyes. He listens. Hawke's breaths are deep and soothing. One strong arm curves around his waist, Hawke's beard tickling his nape.  
  
It would be... unwise to allow the Hightown locals to witness Fenris's walk of shame. It's better to leave before anyone else rises to spare Hawke from being the subject of slander and gossip. The longer he lies here, the harder it will be to summon the strength to leave.  
  
Fenris is not sure what his tells are. He is quite sure he has remained in the same position since waking. Either a subtle change in the way he moved or breathed woke Hawke, or his lover is a mind-reader. Before he even forms a plan to slip out of bed and dress without waking Hawke, his plan is foiled. Lips press between his shoulder blades. Hawke pulls him closer. "Can you stay?"  
  
He knows he shouldn't. There are a dozen reasons why it is better to leave. It isn't the hour or the warmth of Hawke's bedroom that keeps him from leaving.  
  
Fenris still is not used to feeling wanted. He might become addicted to it. But he resolves to worry about it another time.  
  
"Yes," he whispers back. Fear prickles at him, nonsensical as it is, that he might shatter this moment if he speaks too loudly.  
  
And yet he thinks Hawke might be of a similar mindset, the way he mouths his name. Lips travel up his spine. One by one, each vertebrae is bestowed with kisses. He nestles back into the hook of Hawke's bare body, his own meshing against the shape of his lover. He reaches his hand over his shoulder to pull Hawke against the curve of his neck. Fingers sift through Hawke's hair, a caress still sloppy with sleep. Fenris knows that gentle pets will put Hawke to sleep, if that is what he wants.  
  
He tightens his grip, pulls at the raven locks. There is a sound locked in Hawke's chest. One that Fenris feels through his back, a vibration that wakes him like a storm's first rumble of thunder. Again he tastes the apprehension. The fear. If they break the morning stillness, this feeling might disappear.  
  
So Hawke is quiet. He takes Fenris by the thigh, rolls his hips up against him. Fenris bites his lips, feeling Hawke's open mouth at his neck. Teeth graze against his jaw. Fenris tugs his hair again,_ harder_, and Hawke's hand slides between his legs.  
  
He stills. He knows this is not supposed to be a one-sided event. But their relationship is still fragile and new. More often than not, he simply lets Hawke lead. Hawke has never complained, though he suspects that Hawke knows he is not sure what to _do_.  
  
Fenris has thought about it before. Particularly during the three years of their break up, he wondered what other lovers Hawke had. But tonight, the way Hawke touches him, Fenris does not care. No one else matters.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
It occurs to him that he has hardly moved or made a sound. In any situation, it is not normal behavior. In Hawke's bed -- even less so. Fenris nods. He turns his head and and finds himself close to Hawke's face. Noses brush, and all Fenris can see is the amber of his eyes. He closes his own and pulls Hawke into a breathless kiss. Again, and another, and Hawke lies him flat on his back. "Fenris," he murmurs against his mouth.  
  
Hands fumble over the other's body. Hawke pulls the covers up to keep them warm, as if the closeness of him was not enough. A few slick fingers work their way inside of him again. Fenris drags his teeth down Hawke's lip. Starstruck and dazed, Fenris gazes up at him. Hands trail down Hawke's hair, his face and shoulders and chest, and Hawke presses a firm kiss to his lips in time with their slow, careful union of their bodies.  
  
It is not wild or desperate or romantic. It's sloppy. Aimless. It's the best damn thing Fenris has ever experienced, and he hopes to hold this feeling in his heart until it stops beating.  
  
Hawke rocks him like a ship on choppy waters. There is always a threat of capsizing, but Fenris knows he will not drown. Not anymore.  
  
The familiar sensation builds at his core. Each wave brings him closer, closer. And it is not Hawke's stamina or prowess that does it -- it is the way Hawke looks at him. The way that says he wants to watch as Fenris comes undone.  
  
Fenris never has, and never will, deny him.  
  
It's a blur. The shudder and sigh and whispers exchanged... Fenris rides the feeling to the moon and back, and he cannot focus on much else. He remembers a little bit of clean up, mumbled reassurances that he is fine. No, better than that. Fenris is, he's... he's content.  
  
Hawke takes care of everything, as always. Snuggles back under the covers before Fenris remembers to miss him. They might still have an hour or so before duty steals Hawke from their nest. But Fenris cannot even begin to plan his roundabout trek back to his own mansion. A strong arm pulls him in close. Hawke tucks his head under his chin. Fenris is not yet ready to initiate or return embraces, like Hawke. But being held... there is comfort in it like none other. Fenris allows it. No, he _welcomes_ it. He closes his eyes and exhales slowly.  
  
For a little while longer, Hawke is all his.


End file.
